


The Goth And The Vampire

by UAs_Fics



Category: South Park
Genre: Animal Death, Goth Stan Marsh, M/M, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-11 11:24:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17446034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UAs_Fics/pseuds/UAs_Fics
Summary: For the sake of the stray animals of South Park, Raven will put his utter hatred of the Vamp Kids aside to help one of them out.inspired bythis art pieceby Bybasily





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by this art piece by Bybasily

Raven couldn’t stand humanity. Humans were cowards, hiding behind false faces as they danced around in a predetermined play. 

Animals, though, animals were pure. They ran not on societies stage, following stereotypical scripts that they didn't want in the first place. 

Animals were different. 

When wolves ran together as one, it was joyous and a show of strength. When birds or frogs sang over the woodland, it was a glorious melody. 

When animals were one, it was instinct. It was nature. 

Not like the ungoth human masses. 

Raven held animals in the highest regards. So when he heard the terrified cries of some poor creature on his way home from the graveyard, he froze.

A heavy blanket of clouds clung over the sky that night. Only the sickly yellow of the street lamps gave any light to the empty town. 

The mountain chill settled down into his bones as Raven strained his ears.

Usually, he would assume the cries were of a prey animal, desperately trying to escape its fate, and he would leave nature alone to her cruel design.

But these cries, they weren't from a prey animal.

They were from a cat.

They were from a predator.

Raven's brow furrowed as he slowly followed the ever-growing cries towards an alley between Tom's Rhinoplasty and an abandoned office building.

He pressed himself up against the clinic front. His breath fogged up the glass and obscured the prices for nose jobs hanging up in the window.

He shuffled closer and heard a voice.

“Please stop struggling! It'll be over soon, I promise!” Someone whimpered softly. The voice sounded just as scared as the cat.

So this _was_ a human's doing! Of course, some pathetic human would do this! Probably some kid on a dare, trying to crawl their way up the social ladder. 

Raven narrowed his eyes and scooted to the edge of the building. His shoe brushed against something wet and sticky.

When he looked down. The bloody remains of a squirrel stared up at him. Its eyes were so wide in terror that only the smallest pinprick of black iris looked back. Its fur had been torn out in places and blood oozed from its nostrils and covered its broken teeth.

The most gruesome disfigurement of the broken corpse, however, wasn't the twisted limbs or missing fur, but the squirrel's stomach. The belly fur was slick, wet, and pointed upwards. All of it ringed by deep punctures. 

The squirrel must have been in agony when it perished.

“Shh, shhhh, now. Please, I don't gotta choice.”

Raven jerked his head up as the voice once again pleaded with the cat. He reached to his back pocket.

South Park had a lot of weirdos. It would be better to go into this armed. Firkle had given him and the rest of the Goths a knife last Christmas. Raven only kept it because of how Goth it made him feel.

This would be the first time Raven would have to use it in defense.

Steeling his nerves, Stan peeked around the corner into the alleyway. 

The cat struggled against the hooded figure that loomed over it. The figure held down the striped tabby by its head with one hand and, with another, pressed the tabby's middle against the concert.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry...” The figure mumbled.

The figure looked about teenager sized. Were they planning on shaving the poor cat? Cut off its whiskers? Duct tape its tail to its back?

The soft flesh of his palms pressed against the crudely carved bird in the handle of the his knife. He could do this. For the cat. For nature herself.

The clouds above parted. A beam of silvery moonlight basked the scene in its cold embrace.

The light glinted off the saliva and blood on the monster's fangs. Red-tinged drool ran down its chin, dripping onto the tabby's grey coat.

All Raven's mind could comprehend at that moment were those fangs. Nothing that big and sharp could belong to a human, but there was nothing else it _could_ be. Dogs and bears and other large predators didn't have hands, nor did they speak. 

Trapped in place by the horrific awe of the monster, Raven watched as it lowered itself down. Then, with its jaws opened wide, the monster clamped down on the cat's neck.

As a disgusting slurping sound filled the night, a movement behind a box in the alley tore Raven’s eyes from the grotesque scene. 

A kitten peeked its head out, eyes wide as dinner plates, then another, and one more. Three little tabby babies. One of them mewled, taking a tentative step closer to the scene, only to scamper back when the cat let out a yowl.

Raven’s heart caught in his throat. The monster wasn’t just eating a cat; it was eating a _mother_. 

Every muscle in his body screamed at him to flee. He should just up and go. This was not his fight is what his flight or fight response told him. But when the mother cat’s yowls and screams went silent, Raven knew he was going to make it his. 

Gripping the knife in white knuckles, he crept forward towards the monster. Steps away from it, he raised the knife up. He took two, quick steps and swung the blade down in into the flesh of its shoulder.

The monster let out a screech that sounded a little too human. Raven shook it off, before kicking the monster in the spine. It tumbled forward onto the cat's corpse.

With his adrenaline giving him a boost of speed, Raven moved to scoop up the three kittens and shove them in the box they hid behind. 

“I’m sorry; I can’t save her!” He whispered to them. One last glance over his shoulder at the monster as it groped its back in an attempt to reach the blade, then Raven turned and ran away as fast as his feet could carry him.

* * *

“Woooow, so, like, you saw a monster vore a cat,” Pete’s mouth gaped, “and you _fought_ it? That’s pretty Goth, dude.” He stroked one of the kitten’s fur.

After a vet checkup, Raven had moved the kittens from his room to the garage. Luckily, the kittens were friendly and not too skittish, and his mom promised she’d make sure they were taken to good homes when they got a little older.

“Yeah, it is, but,” Raven shook his head, rubbing another kitten’s stomach as it batted at his fingers, “no one believes what I saw wasn't a dog!”

Three days had passed since that night. The next morning he’d dragged his parents to the scene. He expected to find pools of thick blood and the corpses of the squirrel and mother cat, but when they arrived, almost no evidence remained of the night prior. There was blood, but not enough to match the gore he'd seen in the moonlight. The squirrel and cat corpses were nowhere to be seen. 

Raven’s father fixed him with his usual look of disappointment as his mother stroked his head reassuringly. 

“It was probably just a big dog that killed the mama cat, sweetie,” His mother had told him softly. “We’ll keep the kittens for now and call animal control to keep an eye out for the dog before it hurts anyone else, ok?”

“I bet it’s a beast that only those with eyes unclouded can see.” Henrietta nodded. “To everyone else, it would look like a dog, but not to someone as Goth as us.”

Michael wiggled a string above the final tabby kitten. “Even if it was a dog, that was, like, super brave of you. You risked rabies, man.”

Raven grunted, scooping his kitten up to set it on his stomach. He wanted to say that he knew it wasn’t a dog but held his tongue. What was the point? It’s not like he would see the monster again, anyway. He was grounded until Kingdom come for sneaking out to the graveyard. 

Michael tossed the string to Firkle. They watched as the kitten scrambled over itself to try and catch its prey, only to skid out the open garage door into the wet snow. 

The day was a surprisingly warm one for the mountain town, so Raven’s mother told him to leave the garage door open to let the sunlight in.

It was almost too bright for someone as accustom to night as the Goths, but Raven needed to work his way back on his mom’s good list, so they suffered with the glaring light.

Raven let out a sigh. He knew he should consider himself lucky. Whatever that thing was, it could have killed him. The only thing he had lost that night was his hat. It fell off his head in his mad dash for home.

And, of course, the knife he plunged into the monster's back.

"I guess,” Raven muttered, then, louder, he asked, “Hey, Firkle, where’d you get that knife you gave me for Christmas, by the way? I feel really ungoth without it anymore.”

“You look unGoth,” Firkle chided with a shake of his head. 

Raven rolled his eyes. With his favorite hat gone, he had to wear his old red and blue one that barely fit. That, coupled with the fact he’d been too tired to put on the foundation that kept his naturally rosy complexion pale as death, of course, he didn’t look particularly Goth!

Pete shoved Firkle’s shoulder. Seeing its opportunity, the kitten jumped and grabbed hold of Firkle’s hand and the string, playfully chomping down on his knuckles.

“Lay off,” Pete scolded the youngest member of their friend group. Firkle just rolled his eyes then began to pry the kitten off him.

“I’ll send you the link later,” Firkle promised. He opened his mouth to say something else when Henrietta covered his lips.

“Hey, that kid's been standing looking at us for a while now.” She raised her sharp, black painted nail to point across the street. Raven, Pete, and Firkle turned over their shoulders. Michael stood on his knees to look over everyone else. 

On the other side of the road, a kid stood, swaying his weight left and right. Raven narrowed his eyes. The kid looked familiar. He was probably in the same grade as him.

Seeing five sets of eyes on him, the kid jumped. He waved a little then looked up and down the street before jogging across.

“He’s wearing all black,” Pete commented. “Think he’s Goth?”

Henrietta scrunched up her nose. “No, wait, I know that kid. He was a friend of my brother. He’s a fucking dork.”

She finished saying that just as the kid entered the garage. Now that he was closer, Raven could tell, yes, he did know him.

His real name was Leopold, but no one ever called him that. Instead, everyone called him ‘'Butters’, though Raven couldn't remember why. 

He was the Stotch’s son, and he and Raven used to hang out nearly six years ago, back in third grade, when the both of them were desperately trying to be just “unique” enough to be memorable but not so much as to incur the wrath of their peers’ taunts. 

That of itself was not enough to damn him in Raven’s eyes. It made him a conformist poser, sure, but so was pretty much everyone else.

No, what made bile raise up in Raven's throat at the very sight of Butters was the fact he was a Vamp Kid. 

He had escaped them once when Mike first formed his douchey little “coven,” but then he just _had_ to go back to them, for some reason.

Raven swallowed down his disdain as Butters waved cheerfully at them. 

As he stood, Butters blocked out the sun, leaving a halo around him. Some of the sun’s rays glinted off his pale blond roots. Was that a fashion choice on Butters' part or was Butters just too lazy to redye it?

Not that it mattered, since, like all the other Vamp Kids, Butters reminded Raven of someone the Hot Topic vomited up on, right down to the peeling temporary tattoo saying 'bite me' on the top side of his hand and fake, plastic fangs.

Raven cringed, sitting up. The kitten rolled into his lap. It peaked up, looking around before its eyes landed on Butters. Suddenly, it hissed. The fur along the kitten’s spine rose. 

Its siblings turned from what they were doing. The one Pete was playing with turned on its heels and dashed into the old dog bed to hide. The other spat at Butters before following suit, scurrying behind one of the stacks of boxes. 

Raven’s kitten looked at its siblings, then back at Butters. Seeming to decide the new 'threat' was too great to take on alone, the kitten then clambered out of Raven’s lap to go hide as well.

“Oh, look,” Michael scoffed, “even the cats know to fear your brand of douchey mediocrity.” 

The Goths chuckled amongst themselves, but the smile on Butters’ face never wavered. The only indication Raven saw that he was at all offended was a flash of hurt in his good eye. His other eye had a dead, cloudy film over the iris and pupil and a scar carving through it. 

It was about the only feature Raven could at all call ‘Goth’ about him.

“Yeah, cats are pretty scared of the creature of the night,” Butters joked. 

Rolling his eyes, Raven snapped, “What do you want?”

“Oh, uh,” Butters looked to the side, his cheeks pink, “I have something of yours, Stan.”

“ _Raven_ ,” He corrected coldly. No one called him ‘Stan’ anymore. That conformist loser died the day a pretty girl broke his heart and crushed the pieces with her mary janes. 

“Oops! Sorry, Raven. I have something of yours.” 

“What could you have of mine?” 

“Your hat.” 

Raven reached up, his fingers brushing the faded red and blue wool. 

“My hat?” He repeated.

“Yeah, the knit grey one with the black trim and puffball? It had your name sewed on the inside,” Butters informed him. “Did your mom do that for you? If so, that’s really sweet of her! My mom doesn’t label my clothes anymore.” 

He laughed as Raven’s cheeks burned. His tone didn't sound particularly mocking. Instead, it sounded like a statement of fact, but Raven couldn't imagine anyone saying that without a taunt behind it. This Vamp Kid was just trying to goad him.

Raven fixed Butters with a glare.

Raven did loved his mother, but he would never outright admit that. If you were Goth, then you didn’t get along with your family. That’s just how it went. Henrietta got into fight after fight with her parents. Michael always complained about his step-family being a bother, while Firkle and Pete would bemoan their own parents and siblings.

“Fuck off,” Raven growled. “If you have my hat, then give it back.”

“Well, I don’t _have_ it on me,” Butters admitted. “It’s at my house.”

“Why didn’t you bring it?” Michael asked.

“Well, I wanted to make sure it was his first,” Butters knocked his knuckles together in front of him. “It’s a really nice hat. I’d hate to give it to the wrong person.”

“Well, then, go get it,” Raven ordered. “I’m grounded and can’t leave the house.”

Butters’ expression shifted from a positive, if embarrassed, one to something dark. His eyes narrowed and lips turned downward. A shiver ran along Raven’s spine.

“Oh, that's something else my mom doesn't do anymore.” Butters’ voice was emotionless. “I’ll bring it later. See you, Raven.” With that, he turned and walked away.

Once he disappeared from view, the Goths let out a collective breath.

“What the fuck _is_ that kid?” Pete muttered, standing up. As he wandered towards the back to fetch the kittens, Michael shrugged.

“A freak, probably. He was friends with Henrietta’s brother, after all,” He said, rolling to his feet to help Pete. 

Henrietta snorted. “God, yes, I think those two had a sleepover once years ago, and they stayed up all night playing ‘Hello Kitty Island Adventure’. So annoying.” 

Firkle and Henrietta started making condescending remarks about the Hello Kitty fan base. Pete and Michael searched the boxes and containers in the back of the garage for the kittens. And Raven looked down at his hands. 

He was shaking, and he didn’t know why.

* * *

The night was his domain. Everyone else in the house had gone to bed a hours ago.

In the silence, Raven could finally start to prepare for the black void of sleep. 

As the time ticked closer to midnight, Raven crept to the bathroom from his room, where he had barred himself away for the last few hours.

Originally, he did abandoned his family after dinner because that seemed to be how it was done amongst the Goths: Eat dinner with your family, if you had to, then venture away to your own self-imposed isolation. 

Nowadays, he did it to avoid any snide remarks and forlorn sighs his dad might toss at him. There were only so many eye rolls and ‘how long will this phase last’ s one person can take, after all. 

Raven scrubbed his face. He had just finished his left side when he winced. He hadn’t worn any make-up today. Disgruntled, he tossed the washcloth into the clothes basket by the sink before quickly brushing his teeth.

He'd felt off every since Butters showed up to chat that afternoon. Something about how Butters’ peppy voice lost all emotion left a heavy lump sitting in Raven's stomach. 

Not that he would ever admit that to any of his friends. Butters was just a stupid Vamp Kid after all. His friends would tell him Butters wasn't someone Raven should waste his thoughts on. They were right, of course. 

On the walk back to his room, he purposely stuck close to the wall away from his parent's room. If he didn’t get close, he didn’t risk hearing them talking behind his back again.

A knocking came from downstairs as the moment his hand touched his doorknob. Raven raised an eyebrow, taking a few steps backward to look down the steps. 

It was nearly midnight. Who in their right mind would come knocking at midnight? Unless it was an emergency. Maybe someone died. Maybe someone was missing. Maybe the school had burnt down with every preppy dickwad inside.

Raven glanced at his parents' room, then shrugged. 

“I’ll get it,” He said to the empty hall. Padding his way down the stairs, Raven then walked to the door. He opened it mid-knock.

Butters raised his gaze in surprise. “Oh! Heya, Raven,” He greeted warmly.

Raven didn’t hold back his wince of disgust. He’d expected Butters to return his hat at school the next day or during the evening, not in the middle of the night. Butters probably wanted to give him back his hat this late so he could avoid the other Goth's mockery towards him, Raven thought. 

What a coward.

“You have my hat?” He asked, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. 

Butters bobbed his head. “Yeah, yeah, here, everything you lost.” With his grin plastered a little too firmly on his face, he held out Raven’s hat, folded in half.

Raven reached out and took it back. Something felt off about its weight. 

There was something inside of it. 

With an eyebrow raised, he unfolded the hat and reached inside.

His fingers brushed against cool plastic and a familiar carving.

His heart froze in his chest. Shaking, Raven removed the knife from the hat. He had to turn it over, praying he hadn’t felt what he thought he’d felt, only to have a choppy carving of a bird, its wings raised out, staring back at him.

“I’d forgotten how strong you are, Raven.” Butters chuckled. “Took me fifteen minutes to get that out — I bleached it, so don't worry.” He nodded at his action before continuing. “Then I had to clean everything up in the alley with a hose from the office and got all soaked. It was really chilly out, too. If I could still catch them, I would have caught a cold when I walked all the way to the woods to bury that cat." He shook his head. "It was just an awful night.”

Forcing his body to move, Raven raised his gaze to Butters’ face.

One of his eyes glowed a pale red while the other, the one with the scar through it, disappeared in the shadows of his face. The monster pulled his lips back, exposing sharp fangs.

Raven reeled back, dropping his hat, but keeping the closed knife in his hand. He reached out to slam the door when a hand grasped his wrist. He found his fingers pried off the door and then his body pushed inside. The monster shut the door behind them with a kick of his foot.

Without any other options, Raven opened his mouth to scream, only to have the monster’s other hand clamped over his mouth. 

“Shh, please be quiet,” The monster ordered.

Tears pricked Raven’s eyes. This was it. This was how he died. He wasn’t sure which made him feel worse: dying at the fangs of a monster or dying at the hands of a _Vamp Kid_.

The latter, he decided, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“If you’re gonna kill me, make it quick. I’ve suffered enough in this bull shit life,” He mumbled against the monster’s palm.

The monster took his hand away, pale eyebrows knit together. “I just wanna talk to you. I ain’t gonna hurt you.” He looked around Raven up the stairs. “Are your parents awake?” 

Raven shook his head. He would play along with the monster’s whims until he could escape. He still had the knife; it wouldn’t be impossible to stab the monster again if he caught him off guard. 

“Can we talk in your room then?” The monster asked, slowly lowering his hand from Raven's mouth, but not releasing his wrist.

“I guess,” Raven stole a step backward, “C-com’on.” Raven tried to pull his wrist free, but the monster's grip was too strong. 

The monster slid his hand down until their fingers were lace, with the knife cradled between them, then squeezed his hand uncomfortably hard. Raven almost groaned. 

Holding hands with a Vamp Kid might kill him of pure embarrassment. Now he really had to stab this monster. It would be the only way to redeem himself.

As they started up the steps, the monster came right up behind him and whispered in his ear, “Please don’t try nothin’. You don’t want your parents or sister dragged into this, right?”

Raven faltered in his step. So, the monster knew his plan. 

Great. 

Maybe he could convince the monster he wasn’t a threat to him. If Raven promised never to tell, the monster would have to leave him alone, right?

Finally, they made it to Raven ’s room. He shut the door and locked it before the monster released his hand. The monster then looked around his room a moment before pulling his desk chair out and taking a seat. With his hands in his lap, he nodded for Raven to sit as well.

As Raven slipped onto his bed, he couldn’t help but wonder what happened to Butters. Did this monster kill him and take his form? Was the monster an alien that crawled into his brain through his ears? 

A pang hit his stomach. Their friendship may have ended years ago, but he had still enjoyed Butters’ company back then. Butters was a sweet person, if a little too naivé. Seeing this monster take him away made Raven regret anytime he’d been mean to him.

“Well, I guess you probably have some questions, huh?” The monster laughed nervously, pulling at his studded leather wristband. 

Raven nodded. “What happened to _the real_ Butters?” He glared.

“What? I am the real Butters!” The monster frowned. 

“Bullshit. The real Butters isn’t a monster who eats cats.” Raven gripped his hands into fists.

“He is now,” The monster whispered, looking at his feet. “Listen, Raven, about the cat, you gotta understand something really important.” He took a breath. “I’m a vampire — “ when Raven opened his mouth to counter, he quickly added, “ — and not a fake one like Mike and the rest of them.”

The monster reached up and tapped his fangs. “These aren’t fake.” He gave one a tug. “See? Real as the nose on your face.” He offered his teeth out for Raven to touch, but Raven declined with a shake of his head.

Under normal circumstances, Raven would have called BS on that as well, but then he remembered the cat and how Butters eyes flashed. 

“H-how?” He cursed himself for letting his fear show.

The monster laced his fingers together. “I...don’t really know, exactly. Some sixth graders chased me down the sewers two years ago. I stayed down there until I got the courage to head up. I bumped into this really nice lady as I was heading home, and she said she’d take me there in her car. Turns out she wasn't a nice lady, but a not very nice vampire lady and, then, um,” he squeezed his hands together, “I don’t want to talk about what happened next. It wasn’t...I don’t...I...”

His body began to shake. He refused to look up from his feet. His breathing came out in quick and shallow bursts. Something like a sob escaped his throat.

Raven chewed his lip then tentatively reached across the gap between them and set a hand on his knee. The monster’s head snapped up with a faraway look in his eyes. He blinked hard a few times as he forced himself back into the present.

“Sor...sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s ok,” Raven reassured, gentler than he intended to. So maybe this monster was Butters, but he was still a monster, nonetheless. 

Raven took a breath. “So, you’re a vampire now. That’s why you...you know, like, ate the cat?”

Butters nodded. “Yeah. I used to have a human source of blood, but he and I had a falling out after we got into a fight about this pretty girl.” He sighed. “He said I couldn’t even sit with him at lunch anymore, so I had to go join the Vamp Kids, since I thought one of them might be like me.”

“Let me guess, they’re all a bunch of fakers?” Raven cocked an eyebrow. He already knew the answer.

“None of them are real. None of them were any help to me.” Butters nodded. He twiddled his fingers a moment then continued, “Since I lost my friend and blood source, I had to go to animals’ blood to live.”

“Can’t you just break into a blood bank or something? Why hurt the animals?” Raven asked.

“It’s not like in the movies, Raven.” Butters crossed and uncrossed his ankles. “I don’t have super strength or speed. I’m just _a little_ faster and stronger than everyone else.”  
 _  
“That’s it?_ ” Raven couldn’t help but ask. “You drink _blood_ and all you get from it is you can walk faster the normal people?” 

Butters scooted back until his spine pressed straight against the chair back. “I can do other things too, like, I’m really good at persuading people to do what I want. And healing really fast, too. I can do that glowy thing with my eyes, and make my teeth longer or shorter, and, uh, what else, I think I’m technically immortal now? Maybe? I don't get sick normally, at least, but, well, you see? I can do a whole lot as a vampire, but only when I drink blood — people blood.”

“Then why don’t you? There are plenty of people who walk the streets at night you could drink from.” Raven took his knife and set it on the bedside table.

All the fear he had for Butters was beginning to wane. How much of that was Butters’ natural innocent and unthreatening aura, and how much was his distaste for Vamp Kids clouding his thinking, he wasn’t sure.

“Golly, I can’t! It’s one thing if the town thinks a real-life monster is going around killing strays, it’s another if they think a pervert is attacking people!” Butters shook his head. “Besides, I don’t think I’m strong enough to hold an adult down, and biting a kid without permission would make me feel bad.”

Raven hummed in thought. “So, if you had a person to eat from, you’d stop hurting the animals, right?”

“Yeah. That’s right. That’s why I was so sad when my friend cut me off from drinking his blood.” He deflated a bit, tapping his knuckles together. “I went as long as I could without drinking blood, and I tried only drinking blood from dead meat, but that stuff doesn’t do it. I got so sick from it, I couldn't take it anymore and had to go get blood from _something_ alive. 

“I didn't mean to kill any of the animals, but I was so used to drinking from something big, like a human, that it just kind of happened. I couldn't judge how much was too much and...I didn't want to do it. Honest.” 

The sorrowful look on Butters' face and sincere guilt in his voice told Raven everything he needed to know. 

He took a breath, then stood from the bed. He pulled his shirt off over his head and tossed it aside before sitting on his knees with his back towards Butters. 

“If it’ll save the animals, you can drink mine, I guess,” Raven stated. “Just don’t kill me or turn me into a vampire either, got it?”

Butters stared at him with his mouth agape. He reached out, fingers about to touch Raven’s skin only to flinched back.

“Are you sure about this? Really, really sure?” Without waiting for an answer, he began to lean closer to Raven’s but didn’t touch him. He could feel his breath across his shoulder as he inhaled his scent.

“It’s whatever. It’s just blood. I can make more.” Raven picked at his nails, pretending to be uninterested. In truth, he was pretty scared about the prospect. He hoped his racing heart wouldn't get Butters over-excited.

He saw Butters kill that poor cat. The last thing he wanted was to end up like her. 

_For the animals, for the animals,_ Raven chanted to himself. 

A wide, toothy grin spread across Butters face, showing off his fangs once again. In one quick motion, he pulled Raven into a hug. 

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re a lifesaver — a real swell pal!” 

“This doesn’t make us friends, and you can’t tell a soul about this _ever_ ,” Raven snapped. 

Butters crossed his finger over his heart in an x shape. Raven rolled his eyes.

“Just take what you need for the night then go home. We can talk more about this, uh, ‘arrangement’ tomorrow.”

“Well, Okie-dokie then!” 

Butters coiled his arms around Raven, holding him just a bit too tightly as if he feared Raven would run away before he had his fill and opened his jaws wide.

Raven looked away. 

If he saw those long fangs dig into his flesh, he would chicken out. Instead, he let his body relax as a sharp pinching feeling resonated from his shoulder. 

He squirmed in Butters’ grasp. This _hurt_. It wasn’t agonizing, but there was no way Raven could find it pleasant. What’s worse, he felt every lash of Butters’ tongue across his skin. So being a feeding bag for a vampire would leave him aching and covered in spit. 

Fan-fucking-tastic.

There was no way he could back out of it now, though. For the animals’ sake, he had to do this.

Maybe he would get used to it


	2. Chapter 2

He didn’t get used to it. 

Five months had passed, and being fed on was just as gross and uncomfortable as ever.

Raven rested his lower back against the top of the concrete barrier. The far end of the baseball field, behind the dugout, was a lonely place, tucked near the tree line, which made it perfect for smoking and the feeding in peace. 

With one hand clamped against his shoulder, Butters gripped tighter to Raven’s front, his fingers balling around the fabric of his shirt. A rumbling came from his throat.

Rolling his eyes, Raven held his cigarette between his teeth, then reached up and flicked Butters in the nose.

“Stop it.” Raven snapped without looking back.

Butters took his teeth from Raven's neck, then rocked back on his toes until his back rested against the chain link fence.

He pouted while wiping the stray blood drops from his chin.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t help it.” Butters ran his hand down from Raven’s shoulder to his mid-back. He let it rest there a moment before pulling it between his knees with his other hand.

“You can help _moaning_ when you’re literally drinking my blood.” Raven took a drag, then purposely blew the smoke at Butters’ face.

He hated when Butters did that. It made his entire circulatory system ache everytime. It also didn't help that it was just plain _weird_. Raven wasn't a particularly tasty slice of cake. There was no need to moan.

No matter how much Butters claimed to the contrary.

“But you taste real good, Raven!” Butters chirped, waving the smoke away. He rocked forward to wrap his arms back around his middle, but Raven took a step out of his reach. 

Pulling from his pocket a large bandaid, Raven doctored up the bite mark. Butters looked away from Raven over his shoulder, lip out in a childish pout, at the trees. Usually Raven gave Butters twenty minutes to drink as much as he needed to get by. After breaking the no moaning rule this time, he’d only had eight. 

It would be enough until Saturday. In the months since this all started, Raven had figured out how much Butters had to take to get by. He had it down to a science at this point. The full twenty minutes was just Raven being nice and letting Butters take a break every few minutes to jabber on about whatever was on his mind.

Raven pressed the bandaid to the bite with a wince before beginning to readjust his shirt. He’d have to wear his jacket zipped all the way up again. How many times had he told Butters to bite lower down on his shoulder? It might have been farther from the artery in his throat, but it was so much easier to hide.

“I’m only good because I’m all you have,” Raven muttered.

Butters hummed to himself. “Nah, that ain't it. You just taste good, better than some of the other people I’ve had.”

“You’ve had, like, two other people, one of which was _Eric Cartman_. It’s not much competition.” Raven stole a step back to slide down the side of the concrete barrier to the ground. 

Apparently, when Butters was first turned, he tried to ignore his hunger, but it grew too strong for him and started to cloud his mind. Seeing Cartman through an unlocked window, he acted out of instinct instead of thought. 

Somehow Cartman being one of Butters ‘victims’ seemed fitting to Raven. Cartman had always been pushing Butters around, bullying and tricking him. Raven figured sooner or later Butters would snap and somehow get revenge on his bully. Honestly, Raven wasn't sure how Butters hadn't gone out of his way to get back at all the people who were mean to him in elementary school. He had the power to do it, but his good heart must have held him back.

Butters stuck out his tongue. “Eric tasted like lard — lard, rot, whip cream, and cheesy poofs. It was icky.”

“What about your ex-friend?” Raven took a drag. “How’d he taste?” 

He hadn’t gotten Butters to spill whom the friend he had a falling out with was. He had, however, narrowed it down to either being Kyle Broflovski or Kenny McCormick. They were both old friends with Butters and, as far as Raven could remember, good enough people who would be willing to help Butters out — for a preppy know it all and a dirty pervert, anyway. 

“Oh, he was interesting.” Butters looked up at the dreary sky. “Tasted like cherry, not real cherry, though, the fake kind they put in Poptarts, and something else. The something else was good, really good, but icky at the same time. Like...” He screwed up his face in thought, "grill steak and burnt bread.”

Raven tried to imagine that taste, but couldn’t get all the flavors to cross. He nearly asked what he tasted like, but the school bell cut him off before he could open his mouth.

Butters jumped to his feet. “Math class time!” He said in a sing-song voice. 

Raven rolled his eyes. Butters, the vampire dork, who lived for math class that was his friend. Butters _was_ an A-plus student in hall his math courses, though.

Raven heard somewhere that vampires had a tendency to count out everything. In days long past, that was how scared villagers would keep vampires in their graves: filling the grave up with tiny seeds that the vampires would have to count before they could leave. He’d wondered if Butters’ vampiric nature made his mind better at math or if he was already good at it before. Maybe it was both.

“I’ll consider heading to class when my eyes aren’t freakish,” Raven made a point to jab a finger towards his eyeballs. A side effect of being a vampire’s blood bag, his irises were tinged red for at least fifteen minutes after every feeding. 

As Goth as it looked, it was a pain in the ass to explain away. Besides, if he had to deal with those emo brats gawking over his eyes being _so_ ‘edgy’ and ‘cool’, he was going to vomit. At least being a Vamp Kid, Butters could pretend his weird red eyes were fancy contact lenses or something. 

Butters smiled apologetically then leaped off the barrier. He landed on his toes with more grace than a normal human could ever muster. Butters took two steps, then stopped, spun back around and retraced his steps.

After digging in his pockets, he crouched down. “I only gotta ten today.” He slipped the bill into Raven’s hand. His fingers were warm, almost unnaturally so, against his palm.

Raven shrugged, then slipped his cigarette behind his ear. After running his tongue across his lips, he set a hand on Butters cheek, then leaned in, pressing a kiss to his lips.

This part of their private time started as a joke. A month in, Raven commented he should start charging for his services. A moment after he had said that, Butters asked him how much would he charge for something like a kiss or a hug.

Thinking Butters was playing along, Raven jokingly replied, “Five for a hug, ten for a kiss, twenty-five for frenching, fifty for a handjob, and for a hundred, I’m yours for the night.” 

He’d never expected Butters to take him seriously, but the very next Wednesday, Butters showed up with fifteen dollars that he blushingly pushed into Raven’s hands for one kiss on the cheek and a bear hug

Sometimes, Raven worried Butters would actually show up with twenty-five or more, but that had ever been the case. The closest he came was showing up with two tens to get four hugs. Raven wasn’t sure if his restraint came from respect or the fact he always spent his allowance the moment he got it. Either way, Raven was almost guaranteed at least five dollars four times a week just for showing Butters a little physical affection.

Butters giggled, his face pleasantly flushed. “Thank you for that!”

Raven grunted. “Whatever. Head to class. Can’t be a cog of society’s death machine if you can’t do arithmetic.”

Butters bobbed his head. “Right!” He exclaimed, a little too happily, as he jumped back to his feet.

“See you at the graveyard on Saturday,” Raven raised his cigarette towards him.

Butters paused a moment then offered, “If you want, we can have a sleepover at my house on Saturday. We could stay up all night playing games and then you could sleep in on Sunday, instead of going to church.”

“I’ll think about it,” Raven stated as if he hadn’t replied that exact same way every Friday when Butters asked him. Butters beamed then finally spun around to head back to class. 

Raven ground his cigarette against the earth before reaching to pull another out of his pack. 

In truth, Raven was not completely against the idea of a sleepover, but at the same time, the thought made his stomach churn. 

He didn’t want to risk putting a name to their relationship.

Raven wasn't sure where he and Butters stood at this point. It wasn't that they weren't friends. On the contrary, Raven didn't think it was possible to have another man's lips on your neck _willingly_ every other day for five months without some positive emotions turning up.

He just wasn't sure if his affections went as far as “crush” or “romantic love”, but they definitely were growing less and less platonic with every passing day. Sometimes, Raven wondered if they were platonic _at all_ anymore.

At first, he chalked the positive emotions up to pity. He felt bad that someone who, really, wasn't all that terrible, was stuck spending his time with those douchebags, pseudo prep, Gothic subclass losers. 

Since Raven started paying attention to Butters, he'd noticed that Butters just barely sat on the fringe of the Vamp Kids anyway. He rarely talked to them, and they rarely talked to him. 

To Raven, it seemed that Butters just hung around with them so he wouldn't have to be physically alone.

But as time passed, Raven found his pity answer having less and less truth in it. He really did just enjoy Butters company, just like he had all those years ago. Even dyed in all black, Butters was a breath of fresh air from the heavy mausoleum air that hung around himself and the other Goths. 

He put his cigarette to his mouth and inhaled. 

If only he could piece together how Butters felt about the situation. 

To Butters, were the butterfly kisses and hugs just a fill-in to actual romantic love? Was that why he never brought enough cash to go any farther? Was he too scared to risk his secret by getting close to anyone else? Was he using Raven as a stand-in for the girlfriend he wished he had? 

No, Raven refused to spend an entire night alone with Butters. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he found out he was just a substitute for something Butters couldn’t have.

* * *

His mom's car wasn't in the driveway, but his dad's car was. 

Raven cringed. Instead of walking into the house, he made his way to the garage.

The kittens had long since been adopted out to good homes, so there was no greetings of mewls this time. As Raven sat down on a box, he couldn't help but smile to himself.

Butters wanted to “apologize” to the kittens for murdering their mother, so every night for a week straight he came in and left them little gifts of food in an attempt to gain their forgiveness.

It never worked. The kittens still hissed at and hid from him when he came by every time until they were adopted out. 

It was almost as funny to watch as the time when Pete and Henrietta attempted to paint the kittens' claws black.

Raven dropped his bag beside him then began to tap against his phone. At least one of his friends had to answer. If he had an excuse, he could just pop into the house, dump his shit, then head out — the less time with his dad, the better.

He already knew Henrietta was a no-go. Her little brother was coming from out of town to visit, and she had to stay home. Firkle was probably still sick with whatever flu or cold was going around the elementary, so he didn't bother texting him either. That left Pete and Michael. He texted Michael first since Michael lived closer.

A few moments later, he answered, “sorry. babysitting. kill me now.”

Raven replied with a frowning face and four pistol emoji. He sent Pete a text next, asking what his plans for the night were. Pete’s trailer might be farther away, but Raven wasn’t above walking there in the cold.

He pressed himself against the corner made by the wall and a shelf, waiting for Pete to reply back when the door to the house opened. 

His dad peeked in, looking around until his eyes landed on Raven. Raven tried to stand so he could make a quick escape, but his dad was faster this time and made it over to him first, leaving Raven boxed in.

“Hey, son, how’s it hanging?” His dad asked in that tone he used when he wanted to talk about something uncomfortable. 

“Just waiting for death, like always,” Raven muttered deadpan, praying Pete would text back soon.

“Oh.” His dad took a breath, then let it out in a low whistle. “You know, Raven, I think we need to have a talk.”

Raven flinched back. “About what?”

His dad looked everywhere else but him as he said, “You know, _stuff_.” 

Raven wanted to die. He didn’t want to talk about ‘stuff’; he wanted to be left alone. His dad had his opportunity to make a deep bond with Raven years ago, and he squandered it with snide remarks about adding color to Raven’s outfit and wishing his Goth ‘phase’ would hurry up and go away so he could 'have his son back’. 

His dad heaved a sigh. “Look, Raven, I just want to make sure you're being safe, ok?”

“Safe? Safe with what?” Raven set his jaw. Did he mean his knife? Or how he walked home in the dark? His dad never cared before, not until his mom flipped out on him about it after the night with the cat, anyway. Was that why he was doing this? Had his mom made him? Seemed a little late to be trying to be a good parent.

“Safe with, uh, well, you know, _safe_.” His dad scratched the back of his neck.

“If you’re not going to be clear about it, then just go.” Raven looked pointedly down at his phone, trying to urge Pete’s text to come.

His dad groaned. “Here.” He reached into his pocket and held out a thin, foil square.

Raven's eyes grew wide at the offered condom. 

“I’ve seen the hickeys on your neck, son. I just want to make sure you and your little girlfriend aren’t doing anything that you two might regret.” 

Raven’s mouth gaped open, his face going completely red. “I, I don’t — it’s not like that!” He pulled up his jacket collar until it touched his chin. “I don’t have a girlfriend, Dad.”

Realization flashed across his dad’s face. “ _Oooooh_.” He nodded. “Well, if you and your boyfriend are doing stuff, you still need to be safe. STDs don't discriminate, Raven.”

Raven sputtered, but couldn’t for the life of him make a coherent sentence.

With a soft smile, his dad crouched down beside him then slung his arm over his shoulder.

“You know, it’s ok if you’re gay, son,” He promised. “I love you, either way. I just want you to be happy, and if being with a boy makes you happy, then I’m all for it.”

For the first time in a long time, something warm towards his dad welled up in Raven’s chest. When was the last time his dad had been this supportive of anything in Raven's life?

He might not have been completely right about it, as Raven still liked more than just boys, but it was a step in the right direction.

“I’d rather you be decked out in rainbows than all black, anyway.”

And then he took forty steps back.

With a cry of frustration, Raven shouldered his dad’s arm off him and stomped to his feet. 

“Why do you always have to make it about you!?” Raven screamed. He stormed past him out of the garage.

“Stan, get back here!” His dad shouted after him. 

Raven spun around and yelled back, “It’s _Raven_ , you selfish fuck!” Without another word, Raven turned on his heels and ran.

* * *

It was dark, the wind was freezing, his phone was dead, and his eyes stung from crying. 

What a way to spend a Friday night.

Raven pulled his knees to his chest then leaned against the plastic half sphere. He looked the eight feet down to the softwood chips that covered the ground around the playsets. 

Another sob tried to force itself out of his throat, and he swallowed it down. 

He could use a cup of coffee right now. That Tweak place was near the playground, wasn’t it?

He considered heading there but decided against it. He wanted to be warm but refused to go into such an ungoth place. 

Or, that's what he tried to convince himself. 

In truth, he just didn't want to risk running into anyone who knew him there. The Tweak's son was in his class, and all Tweek's friends hung around there on Fridays. The last thing he needed was a bunch of people hovering around him asking why he was upset.

No, he’d rather just suffer in the cold. Maybe he’d freeze overnight.

He curled into a tighter ball, burying his face in his arms. 

Why couldn’t his dad just understand this was who he was? He didn’t want to play sports anymore or be the homecoming king. He was happy as a Goth, as paradoxical as that seemed. 

His mom understood. His sister understood. Why can’t his dad?

A biting wind cut through his jacket. A few snowflakes slapped against his red cheeks. 

Raven shuddered. He really was going to freeze if he stayed out here. Standing up, Raven looked towards the rest of the town. Henrietta’s place was closest, but the lights were all out at her house. She was still out with her family. 

He turned, straining fruitlessly to try and see through the trees towards Michael's.

Even if Michael was home, Raven didn’t want to deal with Michael's siblings gawking over him and trying to rope him into playing with them. Firkle was sick, and Pete lived across town.

Setting his lips into a line, he let his eyes move to another house, just a few down from his own.

He took a breath and began to crawl off the playset.

* * *

Raven rubbed his arms as he stood in front of Butters’ front door. The snow started to fall down in thick heavy sheets on the walk over. The covering of white made it easy to sneak past his house but at the cost of freezing his extremities.

He reached up and knocked. It only took a few moments before the door opened. 

“Raven?” Butters’ face burst out into a wide smile. “Well, howdy! What brings you here?”

“Sleepover.” Raven shivered. “Can I come in? It’s cold.”

“Oh, yeah! Come in! Get warmed up! I’ll get you some cocoa.” Butters ushered Raven inside. His hand lingered a moment too long on his arm before he pulled it away.

Butters rushed towards the kitchen, leaving Raven standing awkwardly in his living room. 

Butters’ mother sat on the couch, an infomercial playing as she fiddled on her phone. His father was seated at the table reading over a newspaper. Raven didn't remember much of Butters' parents from when they were eight, though some far off recollection he couldn't fully grasp left a sour taste in his mouth. They weren't the nicest, he remember that much, at least.

When neither of them looked up or greeted Raven, he let out a breath he didn't know he'd taken. Something about them seemed off, but Raven couldn’t put his finger on how. Thought if it meant he didn't need to talk to them he was fine with letting the oddness slide. He would rather spend that time trying to blood flow back to his fingers anyway.

Just as the feeling returned to Raven's digits, Butters came back with a steaming mug in his hand. He pressed it into Raven’s grasp. 

“Follow me,” He waved him towards the stairs. Halfway up, Butters leaned over the railing to call, “Raven is staying for a while. Maybe the whole night. We’ll be good though, so don’t worry.”

For the first time, Butters parents turned and looked at Raven. There was a subtle red haze around their eyes. Raven wasn't sure if they were really _seeing_ him though or just acknowledging what their son had told them.

“Oh, welcome, Raven,” Mr. Stotch greeted. He sounded like prerecorded message. “You two have fun.”

Butters agreed, “We will, Dad.” He looked to Raven to ask, “Are you hungry? Mom can bring us some snacks if we ask.”

Raven nearly declined, but he hadn’t eaten since lunch hours ago. Instead, he just nodded. Butters then turned and called to his mother to bring something up for them to eat a little later. She said she would, then Butters led Raven up the stairs to his room.

He spun around as Raven entered.

“Well, what do you think of my ‘crypt’?” His eyes searched his face for positive affirmation of his decor choices. 

Raven looked around. It was just a normal room, a bed, a dresser, a desk, a shelf, posters on the walls, and toys scattered about. Nothing really stood out as abnormal. save for some rubber bats hanging from the fishing wire by the windows, anyway. Sometimes Raven forgot Butters was suppose to be a dorky Vamp Kid until little bits of their subculture poked through like this.

Instead of commenting on the extreme dorkness of the bats, Raven walked around, pausing to look at all the knick-knacks and pictures on the shelf. When he passed the dresser, he stopped to peer into the cage settled there. Attached with clothespins, a note card with glitter and stickers on it labeled the creatures within as 'Evil Minion 1’ and 'Evil Minion 2’ and 'Miss Alice Cullen.’

A small brown and white hamster poked its head out from under a fake log. It eyed Raven for a moment then crawled back under after deeming him uninteresting. The other hamsters didn't even bother to come out from hiding to examine him.

“You can take a seat on the bed if you want, or the desk chair,” Butters offered when Raven stepped away from the cage.

Raven took a seat on the bed, sipping his cocoa. It was watery but hot, so he didn’t complain.

“Thanks, Butters.” Raven leaned scooted until his back rested against the wall. His arm brushed against the thick blackout curtains that covered the window. Butters claimed that, while direct sunlight didn’t hurt him, it made him itchy and tired.

“So, whatcha doing out in weather like this?” Butters hopped down on the bed. “The weather report said it was gonna be a snowstorm.”

Raven stared down into his drink a moment before muttering, “Got into a fight with my dad. I don’t want to head home, and didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

Butters made a small sound of surprise before scooching to Raven’s side. He set a hand on his knee and offered a small, reassuring smile. Raven eyed his face a beat, then smiled back. 

They stayed in silence. Raven greatly appreciated this. If it had been the other Goths, they would be biting at the bit to hear what happened, then proceed to bash his dad and his actions.

Any other time, Raven would be fine with that and feel validated, but not tonight. Tonight he just wanted to sit and warm up in the quiet of his thoughts.

The silence was broken sometime later when someone knocked on the door. 

Mrs. Stotch peeked in.

“I made you boys some popcorn.” She pushed open the door. In her hands was a bowl of hot, buttery popcorn. Mrs. Stotch set the bowl on Butters’ desk then asked, “Do you want anything else? Have you have dinner yet, Raven?”

Her voice sounded a little too automated for Raven to reply with more than a shake of the head.

“I’ll cook you up something,” She said, then left.

As Butters went to retrieve the popcorn, Raven asked, “Ok, what is, like, up with your parents?”

Butters shrugged. “They’re being good parents. Caring, loving, respecting.” He turned back and his good eye flashed red. “Like I told them to be.”

He set the bowl in Raven’s lap before taking his seat again. Raven took a hand full and greedily shoved it into his mouth. He really had been hungry. No amount of angst and anger could cover that. 

Around the popcorn, he said, “Oh, right. That persuade thing. I forget you can do that. You never do it around me, and you seem a little too _nice_ to make someone do something they wouldn't want to anyway."

Butters pulled his legs up to cross them. He looked to the left like he was embarrassed. “Yeah, I don't like to use it. It's tiring and makes me feel kind of like a mean old bully if I use it on nice people. That's why Mom and Dad are the only ones I use that power on.” He smiled solemnly down at his hands. “It took becoming an unholy, blood-drinking monster to finally get my parents to respect me and treat me right. Kind of ironic, huh?” 

There was a touch of sorrow in his laughter. Raven didn’t point it out. Of course Butters wouldn't use his power on normal, good people. His heart was too kind for that. 

That sour taste filled his mouth again. A few more memories of Butters parents yelling and scolding their son in front of everyone rose up from the depths of Raven's mind, Butters wouldn't use his power on good people, but his parents weren't good people. They never had been.

“You’re not a monster, Butters,” Raven told him after swallowing down the taste. “You’re just different.”

Butters’ cheeks went pink, and he looked away. “Ah, shucks, Raven. It’s ok. I know I’m a monster. I accepted that a long time ago. Besides,” he grinned, “if I wasn’t, I wouldn't have become best friends with you again.”

Raven’s heart skipped a beat, and he suddenly remembered why he’d never taken Butters up on any of his sleepover offers. 

Butters’ brow knit together. 

“Raven, you ok? Your heart is beating like crazy. Is it because I called us ‘best friends’? I'm sorry if I offended you about it, but you are. You're my very favorite person.” He beamed at Raven and made Raven's heart beat even faster. 

Raven felt his throat clench as he looked at Butters' soft, round face smiling right at him. Any solely platonic feelings he held evaporated away with the heat of his blush.

Butters, the kind, sweet, chatty ray of sunlight, thought Raven was his best friend, his very favorite person. 

Did that mean Butters liked him back then? Could this be the foundation of something so much more?

Swallowing the lump forming in his throat, Raven made a snap decision.

“Do you have a quarter?” He blurted out. His volume took them both by surprise.

“Um, yes? I think so.” Butters rolled over to his bedside table and began to search the drawers. As he did, Raven swallowed down the rest of his cocoa then set the cup and bowl of popcorn carefully on the window sill. 

The snow came down just as thickly as before, maybe even more so. It covered the road to the point it was impossible to tell where the sidewalk ended and the street began.

“Got one!” Butters announced as he held up the coin. Raven held his hand flat to take the quarter. Butters dropped it in his hand.

“Alright, just for tonight, I’m giving you a deal,” Raven said as he closed his fist around the coin. “Ninety-percent off the original price.”

Butters cocked his head to the side. Raven watched him do the calculations in his head for a few heartbeats before Raven’s offer clicked. His eyes grew wide.

“Raven, you...” His voice puttered out. He took a shaking breath, looking away, “Ha-ha, um, not to be rude, but a quarter wouldn't be ninety-nine off of fifteen.”

"It's not off of fifteen. It's off twenty-five."

Butters mouth opened into a large o-shape before he laughed again. "I don't think that's quite right either, math-mathemat...tical...ly...errr." His knuckles bumped against each other in front of him. He didn't turn his gaze up at Raven. He didn't look upset, only flustered. 

“Either way, that’s my offer. Take it or leave it.” Raven pocketed his payment. He didn’t plan on giving it back, no matter what he chose.

“Take it! I take it!” Butters lunged forward, planting his hands on either side of Raven. Their faces were inches apart. From the end of his nose to the tips of his ears, every part of Butters' face was red. Raven's face wasn't much better.

As Butters moved in to press their lips together, Raven raised his hand and put it between them.

“I have one question.” He took a breath. “No matter what you say, we can still make out or whatever, I don’t care, but I have to know.”

“What is it?” Butters asked, falling to his knees.

“Do you like me? Like, not as a friend. Is that why you keep paying me for hugs and kisses? Or is it because I’m your only option?” He braced himself for the impending disappointment.

Butters’ lips twitched up before he snickered into his hand. “Well, of course, I like you more than a friend! I wouldn't pay for kisses if I didn’t. I just wasn't sure if you liked me back, you know? I mean, golly, Raven, you’re really handsome and down to earth, and you're the sweetest guy I’ve ever met, even to a nasty, old, cat killer like me. What isn’t there to like?”

A weight Raven hadn’t realized he was carrying fell from his shoulders. He lowered his hand a few inches, before slipping it around Butters’ head and pulling him close.

The kiss was different from every other they shared. This wasn’t a peck on the lips where they both held back their feelings. This had emotion behind their lips and Raven loved it. Butters lips were warm and soft and he never pushed himself too hard onto Raven. In fact, it was Raven who kept pulling him closer.

He found himself almost wanting to risk blacking out from loss of oxygen rather than end their deep, if somewhat clumsy, kissing.

Finally, he pushed Butters back by the shoulder, panting. In the end, his lungs won and he had to breathe again. 

Butters seemed unaffected by the lack of air. His eyes sparkled and a goofy grin spread across his face. He wiped the saliva off his chin as Raven reached up to do the same to his own.

“Can we do that again? I have another quarter.” He started to twist around, but Raven shook his head.

“You don’t have to pay any more,” Raven told him.

“I _don’t_?” Butters practically shook with excitement. “That’s so great! So we can do that again, right? Can we kiss outside of my room? Like at school, or are we going to pretend we don’t know each other still?”

Raven thought on that a moment. A vamp kid like Butters and a hardcore Goth like Raven dating would cause a real stir amongst both their social circles. With any luck, he might be able to convince his friends that Butters was at least softcore Goth enough to be worthy of joining them. 

As for what the vamp kids would say about it, well, Raven didn’t care. They can get along with drinking their Clamato juice and writing their _Twilight_ fanfiction without Butters around.

“It’s whatever.” Raven raised a shoulder. “I don't care, and if I ask them, my friends — ” He winced, suddenly remembering his phone was dead. Now that he thought about it, his mom was probably worried too, and his dad was probably feeding her lies how _Raven_ was overreacting and his dad wasn't being a complete ass.

“Butters, can I borrow a charger?” Raven pulled his phone out of his pocket. “My mom doesn’t know where I am. I don’t want her calling the police.”

Butters nodded, handing Raven his own phone, then took Raven’s from his hand. As Butters searched off the side of the bed for the charging cord, Raven dialed his mom’s number. It rang twice before she answered.

“Hey, Mom,” Raven said before she could speak.

“Raven! Oh, thank God, you’re ok!” 

“Yeah, I’m at Butters’, um, the Stotch’s.” Raven crossed his legs. “It started snowing really hard, and Butters invited me in.” He caught Butters’ attention with a wave, making sure he knew the lie they were sticking to.

“So you’re alright? You’re not hurt?”

“No, Mom.” He took a breath. “Physically, I’m fine.”

From the other end of the line, Raven heard his mom shout the news. He heard his sister call him a ‘turd,’ but there was affection behind the muffled insult. He heard a few other voices he knew, like his Uncle Jimbo and Ned, but he didn't, however, hear his dad's through the din.

“Hey, is Dad there?” Raven asked.

“He is, in the living room, calling your friends. Do you want to talk to him?”

Raven wrinkled his nose up in disgust. “Hell no. I wanted to see if you could hold off telling him I’m safe. He deserves to feel horrible after all his bullshit.”

A heartbeat of silence then his mom questioned, “What did he do?”

Raven scoffed, “Same as always. He was a selfish prick.”

An exasperated sigh came through the phone. His mom knew how her husband acted all too well and didn’t need an elaboration more than that.

“I’ll talk to him,” She promised, though Raven knew nothing would change. “The storm is getting worse outside. Are the Stotches ok with you staying over tonight? Let me talk to an adult.”

Raven covered the phone with his hand. Butters simply nodded. He could hear the whole conversation as it happened. After shuffling off the bed, he darted to the door.

“Mooooooom,” He called, “can you come up here? Mrs. Marsh wants to talk to you on the phone.”

A few moments later, Mrs. Stotch stood in the door, Butters’ phone to her ear. 

“Really, Sharon, it’s no trouble. No trouble at all,” She assured. “Raven can stay as long as he wants. I’m happy that Butters is spending time with a sweet boy like your son.”

“Ah, Mom,” Butters muttered, more to himself than to her. Raven wasn’t sure he would call ‘embarrassing your son’ good parenting. Maybe that was what Butters thought parenting entailed. Or maybe his powers didn’t go as far as Raven had thought.

Once their moms came to an agreement that Raven would stay until tomorrow when the storm was over, Mrs. Stotch passed the phone back to Raven. His own mom told him to behave, be safe, and that she loved him.

He told her he loved her too, refusing to meet Butters eyes as he did so, then hung up.

Mrs. Stotch clasped her hands in front of her. “I need to get back to the kitchen.” She began to leave, only to pause and look over her shoulder. The haze that hung in her eyes faded for just a moment, and in the most human, and authoritative, voice Raven had heard from her, she ordered, “You two keep your hands to yourselves, young men.”

With that, she left.

Butters actually looked surprised. “Huh.” He said. “She actually did some good parenting on her own. That’s unusual.” Butters pressed his side against Raven's, kissing under his ear. “Too bad I ain’t gonna listen.”

He paused, lips still pressed against Raven’s skin, before nervously asking, “If you’re alright with that.”

Raven turned his head then gave Butters a peck on the forehead. He wrapped an arm around his waist before resting his cheek against his hair. 

Of course, this was all right with him. Might as well give his dad some real hickeys to flip shit over anyway.

* * *

When Raven turned his phone back on a few hours later, he was bombarded with message after message, demanding to know where he was, if he was alive, and threatening him with violence if he was dead.

Ignoring the ones from his family, and flat out deleting those from his dad, Raven went to the Goth group chat.

“I’m alive. Fucking Dad was being an asshole and I left and my phone died. Sorry for worrying you.”

He didn’t think the last apology was all that Goth, but it seemed appropriate nonetheless.

Firkle was the first to reply.

“I’m getting you that replacement knife and stabbing you in the still beating heart.” His text held no emoji or indication he was joking. Knowing him, he probably wasn’t. 

Michael and Henrietta’s messages came at the same time.

“ _what did ur dad do this time?_ ” Asked Michael’s.

“ _Where are you now?_ ” Was Henrietta’s.

Leaning against Butters, Raven replied, “ _He was a being a dick, as usual. And I’m at,_ ” here, Raven paused in his typing to look at Butters. Butters was playing some point and click game with a cheerful anthropomorphic frog waving its arms in the corner. The game didn’t seem particularly hard, and Butters looked like he was enjoying himself.

“ _my boyfriend’s,_ ” he finished, then sent the message.

That is what they were now. They both agreed on it a half hour ago. Raven Marsh and Butters Stotch were boyfriends. It still felt a little weird to wrap his head around, but he couldn't say he was displeased with this label on them.

At this point Pete joined the chat, being the first to see the message.

_“Gross,_ ” He sent, and Raven felt his heart sink until his second message came, “ _Who would want to date your sorry, flat ass? lmao_ ”

Raven chuckled, earning a sideways look from Butters.

“Butters, you show up in selfies, right?” Raven asked. 

Butters nodded, a little too enthusiastically. “Yup!” 

“Good.” Raven slipped his arm around Butters’ shoulders then held the phone at an angle above them. Butters flashed a smile while Raven’s lips turned up just a fraction.

“Are you gonna put fun filters on it? I know a site you can put a sparkly filter that makes everyone look like an anime character,” Butters suggested brightly. 

Raven sent the selfie. Never breaking eye contact with Butters as he did so. Sparkly filters weren’t Goth, and a sparkle filter on a Vamp Kid would be a little too on the nose.

Everyone’s reply to the selfie came all at once, talking over each other as much as they could in a text-based conversation.

_“WTF”_  
“You have fucking weird tastes, Rav.”  
“is that a VAMP kid?”  
“is he paying you?”  
“Dude of all the people”  
“That’s my brother’s friend”  
“Why a douchy vampire wannabe?”  
“who played that hello kitty game.” 

Raven rested his head on Butters’ shoulders. _“Butters isn’t that bad once you get to know him. I like him. He's cute and very nice. You'll like him too.”_

He hoped his friends took the hint. He would be bringing Butters around regardless. Butters deserved better than those weirdos he hung around with now. At least his friends would talk to him and include him in their conversations. Raven would make sure that happened himself.

_“Is this going to be a Romeo and Juliet thing? Are you two going to die at the end? I’ll supply the poison.”_ Henrietta sent.

“ _Can I stab Rav then?_ ” Pete asked.

“ _i think hes supposed to stab himself_ ,” Michael commented

“ _Do I die in this?_ ” came Firkle’s reply. “ _Hope so.”_

Raven relaxed. If they were wholly against the idea of Butters joining them, they weren’t going to make their feelings known in the chat. 

“Butters, do you want to start sitting with me and my friends at lunch?” He asked offhandedly.

Butters looked up in surprise. “Golly, would they be ok with that? I don’t think they like me much...” His expression held more discontent than disappointment. Considering The Goths — Raven included — had often mocked both Butters and the Vamp Kids, Raven couldn’t say he found that too shocking.

“They’ll like you. I can see you have a Goth side in you. We just need to scrape off the bats and vampire shit.” 

“You can’t get all of it, but you can sure try,” Butters said with a smile and laugh. He then added, “And, if you think they’ll like me there, sure! I’d love to sit with you! We can hold hands in the lunch line, and I can carry your tray for you!” His eyes sparkled. 

Raven almost burst his bubble that, no, Butters would _not_ be carrying his tray, when Butters continued with, “It’ll sure be swell to sit with people who actually want to talk to me for once.”

Raven let out a suppressed sigh through his nose, before nodding. Maybe having your boyfriend carry your tray for you was more of a preppy relationship mood than a Goth one, but he supposed he could allow it. He would just need to remember to bring a large book or something with him so it looked like his hands were too full to carry it himself. 

More than satisfied, Butters when back to his game and Raven adjusted himself against his shoulder.

At least his worries were put to rest, for a few hours. Once he had to go home, his life would be a nightmare. He didn’t want to deal with the fallout. He didn’t want to admit he had a boyfriend to his whole family and answer all the questions that would bring. He really didn’t want to have his Dad mutter forced apologies that to he was expected to return. He would so much rather stay at Butters, doing nothing and enjoying each others company.

Instead of dwelling on that, Raven sent a message to the Goth chat that he would be going to bed then idly watched Butters play on his laptop.

The frog in this mini-game was playing a swamp themed version of Pong, and Butters was beating it with ease. Raven's eyes wandered down to Butters’ hands as they zipped lightning fast across the keyboard.

“You’re good at this,” Raven commented.

“Thanks!” Butters chirped. “You can try next if you want.”

He declined, “No, I’m actually tired. Today was...a day.” 

All of a sudden, he realized just how exhausted he actually was. His whole body felt heavy and a haze of sleep clouded his thoughts. His eyelids started to droop. 

Seeing this, Butters jumped into action. He closed his laptop then scooched over, careful to make sure Raven didn’t fall down. With a smile, Butters proudly swung out his arm to offer the bed.

Raven blinked tiredly a few times before asking, “Where are you going to sleep?” 

Did Butters want to sleep together? Would that be weird? They only started dating a few hours ago. Wasn’t Butters the kind of person to hog the bed? Or was that Kyle? Raven couldn’t remember.

Butters shook his head. “I don’t need to, but you do. Go on. My bed’s really comfy, and I washed the sheets just yesterday.” 

Raven didn’t protest that. Instead, he kicked his shoes off before crawling under the covers. Maybe it was just because he was dog tired, but Raven had to admit, Butters was right about how comfy the bed was.

“I’ll get the lights for you.” Butters walked backward a few steps to the switch.

“Thanks,” Raven muttered with his eyes slipping shut. All the stress of the day melted away under the warm blanket, taking his conscience with it.

* * *

His mom nearly crushed him in her embrace the next morning with his sister standing close behind. His dad hadn’t come to the Stotch’s to pick him up and Raven was ok with that. 

After taking a second to look around and deciding that it was safe, he raised his arms and hugged her back.

“Don’t you ever worry me like that again,” She ordered when she pulled back. His mom placed a hand on his cheek, looking into his eyes.

“Sorry,” Raven muttered, but he didn’t go to move her hand. He let himself enjoy the maternal worry and affection he’d been avoiding for the last few years.

With a breath, he asked, “Did you talk to Dad? What did he say? This isn’t my fault.” 

His mother sighed. She opened her mouth to speak, but his sister beat her to it.

“He said you were gay and that’s why you’re acting like,” Shelley gestured to him, “this.”

Raven’s face heated up. He took a step back, nearly bumping into Butters and Mrs. Stotch.

He grabbed for Butters’ hand, squeezing partly for support and partly as a point, before he stated flatly, “Just because I have a boyfriend doesn’t make me gay. Labels are stupid and for conformists anyway.”

A mild surprise crossed his mom’s face. She stood, shaking her head, as Shelley snorted into her hand and muttered, “Called it.”

“I hope he wasn’t too much trouble, Linda,” His mom said to Mrs. Stotch.

“Oh, he was a perfect gentleman all night,” Mrs. Stotch waved her hand. “Wasn’t too loud and didn’t make a mess, unlike the last time Butters brought over any of his little vampire friends.”

“Mom, stop, please!” Butters hid his face in his hands. Raven could see the tips of his ears turning pink. 

“He was just wonderful,” she continued as if she didn’t hear her son whine. “There wasn’t one spilled glass of tomato juice anywhere.”

Raven tapped Butters’ side with their connected hands in a comforting display. Maybe Butters let his parents do this so he had someone to keep him humble, or maybe not. Raven would try to remember to ask later. 

“Thank you again for letting him stay,” his mom replied. To Raven, she said, “Come on, honey. It’s time to go home.”

Raven nodded, disentangling his hands from Butters. He didn’t have mittens, but his mom had brought a coat with them. As he slipped the warm coat on, Shelley stepped closer.

She whispered, “He’s not going to try and break in through the window to suck your blood, is he?”

Raven nearly choked on air. His brain floundered for a reply until Shelley continued, “Eric told me when I was babysitting him, Butters did that to him once.”

Raven turned the sigh he let out into a dismissive snort halfway through. “Of course not, vampires aren’t real, Shelley. Get your head out of those trashy wastes of paper you read.”

Shelley put a hand on his shoulder and then shoved him roughly towards the door.

He stumbled but rolled his eyes in the end. This was still a step down from the fights they got into when they were younger. 

As his family shuffled out with his mom yelling one more thank you to Mr. and Mrs. Stotch, Raven took a few steps off the porch. The snow came over his shoes and to his ankles. He could feel some of it fall into his shoes and melt on his socks.

He shuddered, trying to imagine what would have happened if he’d actually spent the night outside in that storm. 

A few steps into the Stotch’s yard, the door opened again and Butters hurried out. He wasn’t wearing shoes, but the cold didn’t seem to bother him.

He pulled Raven into a hug then kissed his cheek before turning back on his heels and headed back to the house. Over his shoulder, Butters chirped, “Text me when you get home!” 

Raven placed his hand over his cheek, smiling softly. Shelley looked over his shoulder at his face then snorted.

“Wow, just went right head over heels, huh? Didn’t know you had a kink for short, dark, and dorky,” She taunted, earning a glare. Raven shoved his hands into his pockets and marched past her. 

“Screw you, at least I have a boyfriend,” Raven grumbled. He heard the low, threatening rumble in Shelley’s throat and picked up his pace, only to find himself tripping over the sidewalk and falling face first into the snow.

* * *

He knew it was stupid to think that, now that they were dating, feedings would be a less disgusting and uncomfortable chore, but he did it anyway. 

It was Sunday. Usually, Sundays were off days, a side effect of Raven tasting, as Butters claimed, “too Holy and Churchy.” 

Raven didn't know what that meant and didn't bother to ask. 

But Raven had been too tired the day prior and church had been canceled the night before due to the weather, so they agreed it would be best for Butters to just come over on Sunday night. 

The moment Butters snuck through his window, Raven made a vow to somehow get revenge on his sister for how correct her joking prediction had been.

Raven leaned slight back against Butters. Butters wasn’t all that warm from his trip between their house, but he was soft. Reciprocating the affection, Butters tighten his grip around Raven’s middle.

Raven then eyes rolled over to his door. He locked it the moment Butters came tapping against the glass, as he didn’t want his dad trying to have a ‘bonding moment’ by bursting in when Raven was supposed to be in bed.

He nearly winced thinking about his dad. When he returned home Saturday, his dad offered a begrudging apology, and Raven accepted it just as begrudgingly. He knew full well that his dad wouldn’t stop whining about him being Goth, but at least the current familial drama had subsided. 

Until next time...

Before Raven could dwell on that thought, Butters pulled back.

He licked his lips. “Ah, that’s good stuff.”

Raven grunted, scooting back farther between Butters’ legs until his back was pressed against his front. Butters snuggled against him, slightly too warm breath on Raven’s shoulders.

Nonetheless, this was peaceful. Raven shut his eyes, listening to the ticking of the clock on the wall, the wind outside, and his own breathing.

He tried to hold tight to the feeling of ease and store it away. School, he knew, would be more of a nightmare than usual. While Raven wasn't one of those preppy, conformist popular kids, a shake-up of the status quo between the Goths and the Vamps would definitely cause waves that would spread throughout the school.

Not that he _cared_ about what everyone else would think. He was way to Goth for that. 

The only problem he should be focusing on would be giving Butters a list of every topic he wasn’t allowed to talk about, now that Raven decided to turn him from a wannabe to an actual, independent, nonconformist Goth — like him and his friends.

But that could wait until the morning — all the repercussions and preparations could wait until the morning. For now, Raven wanted to just enjoy the moment of peace with his boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed! This was a lot of fun to write. I really loved the artist's work and how Raven looked just 100% done and begrudging in their art! =D  
> My writing tumblr is [ right here if you'd like to follow](https://uas-fics.tumblr.com)
> 
> Bybasil made [ a fan comic based on the dollar scene from the start of this chapter!](https://bybasily.tumblr.com/post/182757326368/this-joke-came-into-my-head-while-reading-the)

**Author's Note:**

> Second Part to be posted next Wednesday, January 23rd
> 
> [ my writing tumblr](https://UAs-fics.tumblr.com)


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